Equally Cursed and Blessed

by Mina

14/.

"We've got to make a choice, Princess - stay here, wait and hope for an opportunity to get to Luke... or go after Han."

Her eyes were closed, a futile attempt to stem the development of the blistering headache that was blossoming behind her eyes. "You trust this source?"

Lando didn't pause. "With my credit chip," he said. "If he says Boba Fett has holed up on Algair, then Boba Fett has holed up on Algair." He dropped into the pilot seat with a sigh. "Can't tell you how long he'll be there, though," he said, pointedly, and Leia knew that if she opened her eyes she'd see him looking at her, intently.

She breathed, deeply, willed her body to relax from the state of unbearable tension it had been in for days. Like every other time she'd tried it, it didn't work. "You think we should go to Algair?"

This time, there was a pause, and one that grew uncomfortable. Leia knew what the answer was - she hadn't really had to ask, but she had done, anyway. Maybe she had a masochistic streak in her, somewhere.

"It's not my choice to make," Lando said evenly. "I just think... what are we waiting for, here, Princess? What kind of opportunity are we expecting? And when we know where Fett is - where Han is..." She heard him sigh noisily. "I don't know what to tell you, Leia. It's your call."

Her call - and one so incredibly painful she didn't even want to open her eyes and face it. There'd been difficult decisions in the past - political and military decisions, even ones that had cost her comrades and friends. But never like this. Never so heart wrenching; never so impossible.

"I..." she said, and opened her eyes, though staring at nothing.

"Princess... we're in danger here ourselves - if the Falcon is ID-ed..."

She swallowed convulsively. I can't make this decision, she thought. I can't...

But she knew she had to, and soon.

The door to the quarters he had assigned Luke slid shut behind his back and, despite his attempts at rigid aloofness, it felt as if a light in his mind dimmed slightly.

You hung up on the Emperor - for me?

Vader grimaced, self-deprecatingly. How was he supposed to answer that - 'Yes, my son, I did.' Or - 'Do not be foolish. I am many things, but suicidal is not one of them'? Neither answer seemed to encapsulate the instinct that had made him do it - the answer he wanted to give: 'Of course I did. How could I not?'

And none of those answers, none of them, even began to touch upon the confusion raging inside of him. None began to address the staggering reality of the situation - the fact that somewhere in the last few months he had switched from obeying Palpatine without thought to obeying his heart - without thought. It was a line he had never crossed before - not so blatantly, at least.

The communication suite was empty when he entered, stalking to the raised holoplatform and kneeling without ceremony, preparing himself mentally.

Up until just a few hours ago, the change happening inside of him had been progressing so slowly he'd barely noticed it. Up until a few hours ago, when it had accelerated beyond even his iron-willed control.

The thought made breathing difficult, it was so full of portent. Because the fact was - he'd crossed the line. Leapt over it, in fact. And now he had to face the consequences.

Composure - he had to regain his composure. And it would not be an easy thing to claw together, hurriedly, before facing Palpatine.

Palpatine had been kept waiting, which was a most unwise thing to have been responsible for. His ire would be swift and merciless, and Vader steeled himself against it. He had to attempt to keep up the pretence of at least reluctant obedience, or Palpatine would unleash his fury upon Vader, which might not kill him, but would certainly leave him in a state where he was in no position to protect Luke from the Emperor's desires. And with Vader gone, the Emperor would certainly discover Luke's presence on Executor.

The air in front of Vader shivered with blue static, and then began to clear, an image coalescing out of the buzzing holowaves. Palpatine, his hood pulled back off his head, eyes alight with barely- checked anger. He said - nothing. Just stared at Vader, mouth twisted into a feral grimace, an expression set for razing.

Composure, Vader reminded himself, reluctant obedience. Because he had to weather Palpatine's anger, convince the old man that he still had a spark of loyalty, of downtrodden submission, within him. Because if he didn't appear penitent now... both he and his son would be lost.

But even as he waited for Palpatine to speak, Vader couldn't help but wonder - Should I survive Sidious's wrath - what do we do then?

Three paces by three paces: not much of a living space for a former regional governor. Darasbt knew every inch of the cell - the dark corners; the hard, uncomfortable bed; the iron mesh on the glaring lights. The door had been shut for hours, with no sign of Vader or anyone else, after he'd been escorted from the interrogation bay. He kept staring at it, waiting for it to open, for Vader to enter, and punish him or free him - Darasbt didn't much care which one it was, anymore: either way he was dead. Without the money he would have got from Mothma's bounty, he was dead. Vader would just speed up the process.

With that morose thought rattling around his head, Darasbt fell into a troubled sleep, and so didn't notice, sometime later, the door to his cell opening - not until a shaft of ruddy light fell across his eyes.

"W-what?" he asked, sitting up stiffly and shading his eyes.

"Get up," someone said - someone indistinct, a silhouette in the lit doorway.

"Lord Vader?"

The person snorted in apparent contempt. "Hardly," he said. "I've got a message for you - from Imperial Centre."

"The Emperor!" he croaked, throat tightening.

"Wrong again," the man said, and he stepped down into the shadow, the door shutting. "From someone you owe money to - a lot of money."

And, finally, his sleep-addled brain caught up with the situation. He forced back the bile from his throat. "Make it quick," he said.

"What?"

"Make it quick - I'm not good with pain."

The man laughed coldly at that. "I'm not here to kill you. Prince Xizor is willing to give you another chance. He has instructed me to tell you that if you get rid of Skywalker, he will write off your debt."

The feeling of hope was so compelling, it made his head hurt and his eyes momentarily saw nothing but white noise. "If I... kill him?"

"Yes."

He licked his lips. "And... and... but... how?"

"I thought you'd never think to ask," the man said, voice dripping with disdain. He dropped a pile of clothes to the floor, at Darasbt's feet. Darasbt looked down at them, at the clean white medical uniform; at the portable med-unit, that cracked open, hypos and bandages spilling across the floor. "Vader ordered a medic for Skywalker - the medic had a slight... accident. Now you're him. It'll get you into Skywalker's quarters; the rest is up to you." And he produced a small blaster, and tossed it onto the pile.

Feeling almost numb with hope, Darasbt stood, pulling the clothes into his shaking hands. Hope - it was an intoxicating emotion. "Who are you?" he asked.

The man laughed. "Not everyone on this ship is loyal only to Vader. Come on - get on with it. Vader ordered that medic a good half-standard ago. He'll probably return to the boy soon, although he's currently engaged in a lengthy conversation with the Emperor. You have perhaps a quarter-standard."

"A quarter-standard... I can't possibly-"

"You can, or you will die," the man interrupted, deadpan. He turned back to the door as Darasbt struggled into the outfit. Within a standard minute, they were moving.

"Lord Vader..." Palpatine finally said, with a voice that grated like broken glass scratching through Vader's mind. The mental probe behind the words, sent over light-years distance, lanced through Vader's outer shields before he could fully repel it, and the holoprojector reflected Palpatine's acrid gaze. "I have been... waiting."

Vader bowed his head in fake contrition. "My apologies, my Master. An urgent matter required my attention."

"An urgent matter," Palpatine repeated, slowly, mockingly, his teeth flashing in a deathly smile. "An urgent matter." His voice had a sing-song quality to it that Vader didn't trust. "Do you think me a fool, Vader?"

"My Master-"

"Do you think me a fool!?"

Vader clenched his hands, already raising his shields, his defences. Palpatine was enraged - the fury bounced against his shields like acid rain. "No, my Master. I-"

An expression of hurt passed over the older Sith's face, mocking him with the fallacy of it. "Ah... my friend... when did it come to this?" The sadness had a hard edge, a cold edge, that made Vader recheck his shields. They were still intact.

"I acquired a prisoner on Tallir, my Master, who has required much of my attention. There was a problem that required urgent action," he said, steadily, using the ring of truth to cover what he had omitted.

The smile faded from Palpatine's gnarled face. "I taught you that trick, did I not? To tell half-truths when a lie will not be trusted."

Vader said nothing for a moment. Too late, he thought, he already knows. "I do not understand, my Master. I-"

Palpatine's lips curled back from his teeth, flashing a feral smile, "My lessons... you learnt them well - perhaps... at times... a little too well. Do you think I do not see the lies?"

"I-"

"Answer me just this one thing, truthfully, Lord Vader. Is it your son that you have secreted away on your ship, so stealthily? Your... dear... son."

The clarity of the Emperor's indignation slashed away what was left of Vader's hope that he would be able to explain away his erratic behaviour. Was there any point in lying? Probably not, not anymore, but a wild desire to protect Luke made him say, "No, my Master," and he knew he had just squandered his last chance at pacifying Palpatine as soon as the words left his mouth. Had the respirator allowed it, he would have, ludicrously, been holding his breath.

There was a pause, as Palpatine glared at him in angered fury. Then, "Liar!" Palpatine shouted, voice shrill, eyes flashing murderously. "Liar - I helped you, I saved you, I taught you. And how do you repay me? With lies!"

"I did not-" Vader started to reply, but he felt the Force ripple apprehensively, felt it shrink around him, shudder in warning - and saw the scream of rage racing through the Force at the same time as Palpatine screamed traitor across the light-years.

And then it reached him, screaming through the Force, a bolt of psychic energy so brilliant and sharp Vader flinched before it even touched him. And when it reached him -

- energy sizzled through Luke's muscles, sharp and bright like a star had exploded in his chest and was expanding outwards, atom by atom, straight through him.

He was halfway to the door before he knew what possessed him, and then in his rush to move he tripped over the robe he wore and went sprawling to the floor, arms spread-eagled, reaching for the doorway.

Luke took a moment to breathe, to identify where the panic had come from, and then -

- cold, like he'd never felt before, seemed to surround him, choke him, until the breath in his lungs stopped breathing. His mind spiralled away from his body, and he felt only distantly the heavy pain of falling from the podium, crashing to the floor. His mind was concentrating on shoring up his defences, preventing the breach that would surely kill him. But even as he did it, he began to feel light-headed, insubstantial.

Words reverberated around his skull - My friend, my friend, my friend, my pupil, my creation... traitor! But they were dull, strangely muffled, disconnected.

And he felt like he was drifting away, away...

"Father!"

He started back towards awareness as he recognised the mental cry, and the anguish and concern that rippled through him.

And following right on the heels of the echo of Luke's concern for him, was his concern for Luke. The reckless boy was using the Force to call to him - had he not learnt his lesson about psychic shock? Imprudent child!

The frantic call in Vader's mind threw him for a moment, but it also leant him strength - strength that, though he knew, logically, he should use to further strengthen his shields, he used to send a message winging back-

"Luke - do not use the Force."

"Father! I'm coming - wait - hold on - I - "

And more than he was afraid for himself, right then, he was afraid of what his son would do to reach him. "That was not a request!"

More pain, leaking through his mind, lapping at the corners of his sanity, stole his ability to both call to Luke and protect his mind from Palpatine's attack.

He heard, muffled, as if from a great distance, Palpatine say, mockingly, as if he didn't already know, "Who are you hiding from me, my friend? Is it your son? If I send agents to your ship, who will I find?"

He tried to reply, but no words would come out of his paralysed throat. And when he didn't answer, Palpatine became more enraged, his anger swelling around Vader, until it became a palpable thing, a flood, enveloping him.

And then the rage was overwhelming him, drowning him. The echo of an anxious voice in his head, calling for him, and then -

- darkness.

"Hold on - I'm coming. I... Father? Father!"

Nothing.

Only a still silence, an emptiness, as if he had been suddenly struck deaf or blind, and was left groping madly in the dark. Luke curled his hands into fists, ignoring the searing pain in his head (psychic shock or an echo of Vader's pain? How could he know?) and reached - reached - reached -

Nothing. Just... nothing.

And Force crackled around him, burning brilliant red and orange through his eyes, searing him. Too hot, too hot - a memory of a nightmare, a lifetime ago, ripped through him - It brushed against his skin, blistering it. He tried to scream, but had no voice to cry out with. Lines of fire were traced over his body and he writhed and kicked the fiery talons away from him. They wrapped around him, snaking up his legs, burning deep black furrows into the pale skin. The flesh puckered and burst, his hair crackled like baking hay, tears sizzled on his cheek. His body blazed with white-hot energy, eaten from the inside out - and he couldn't even scream -

Luke lurched backwards abruptly, pulling himself along the carpet, up onto his knees, as if he could outrun the pain in his mind. Psychic shock? he thought, and then the words, imprudent child! slid into his mind, like an echo, or a memory.

The pain was too much, and though he wanted to keep searching, though it felt like he was raking his fingers through a fire, hunting for that elusive presence, he couldn't. He wrenched his awareness back, away from the Force, and the fire in his nerves died slowly.

For a moment, he just knelt there, sucking in breath and clawing for calm. He wanted to hug himself, or to go stand under the icy blast of the shower, or go break something, violently. Do not use the Force! - how could his father tell him to not try, when he knew something was going horribly, irreparably wrong?

"Boy! Get to your feet!"

He was so shocked by the words that he jumped, heart making a valiant attempt at leaping out of his chest. His eyes widened when he looked up - up to the doorway, where three stormtroopers stood, weapons out and aimed at him. "Get up and stand under the light," one of them said, coldly, gesturing with his rifle.

Why were they here? When had they come in? He didn't remember - didn't remember much, other than fire, and pain, and -

"Get him up," the trooper commanded, and one of his comrades strode towards Luke. Hurriedly, legs feeling like dead weight, Luke attempted to stand, but the trooper still grabbed him by the bicep and yanked him upwards, fast enough that Luke's nerves all gave a stab of protest and for a minute there Luke thought he might just throw up over the trooper's white armour.

"What do you want?" he asked, feeling time running through his fingers, trickling away like sand. He had to get out, get to his father, help him -

"Bring him forward, under the lights," the same trooper ordered, and moved further into the room as Luke was pushed forward. He felt like meat at a market, being disapprovingly studied, as the trooper gazed at him, the helmeted head moving slowly down, then up. "Are you hurt?"

"Am I hurt?" Luke repeated, numbly.

"We heard screaming," the trooper said, in a clipped voice, irritation clear. "Are you hurt?"

"I... no," he said, and tried to pull his arm free of the trooper that held him. The man took it as disobedience, and yanked his arm behind his back, tightening his hold to something approaching painful.

"It's a trick," the trooper said. "To get us in here."

The first trooper seemed to consider this, then nodded. "Agreed - restrain him. I will inform Lord Vader," he said, and before the trooper had finished speaking, Luke's other arm was wrenched behind his back and the cold click of cuffs echoed in his ears. His first instinct was to protest - but he stamped that down brutally - if they were going to try and call Vader, then Luke might find out what the hell had just happened to him.

Still - it hurt, and he gritted his teeth against the treatment.

After a few minutes of tense silence, the trooper that had spoken first looked up, then, and said, sounding puzzled, "I am unable to contact Lord Vader. He-"

"What? Why not?" Luke asked, urgently, pulling against the restraints uselessly.

"Unknown," he replied, tersely, and then turned to his counterparts. "We will remain here with the prisoner under Level One observation until I am able to contact Lord Vader."

Luke chafed at that, but the stormtrooper behind him roughly pushed him onto the edge of the bed and set himself up in sentry mode, still and unmoving. Luke fumed silently - and worried inwardly. If only he could access the Force - hadn't Vader said something about sending a medic for him? Was there something he could be given that would let him access the Force again? Latching onto the faint hope, Luke turned to the third trooper, the one yet to speak.

"I was told a medic would be coming here," he said. The trooper didn't answer him. "Where is he?" No response. "Come on, where? Lord Vader ordered it."

The man shifted his weight from one foot to the other, apparently uneasy. "Unknown. He has not yet-"

"I'm right here," a voice interrupted, and the recognition of who had spoken turned Luke's heart to ice.